


A Series of Shockingly Close Calls

by Donotquestionme



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Flashback, He/They Bubby, M/M, Other, Vampire Coomer, fanfic of a fanfic, frankenBubby, hollywood monsters au, to fit with the original fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donotquestionme/pseuds/Donotquestionme
Summary: Running on electricity isn't always all it's cracked up to be, especially when you live in the 1800s. Some close calls Bubby has had with running out of power.  Set in CoolCroc's Monster AU
Relationships: Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	1. Drained

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolcrocs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolcrocs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [on a dark and dreary night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777989) by [coolcrocs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolcrocs/pseuds/coolcrocs). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubby is feeling run down and Coomer notices.

Three months.

Three months into Harold Coomer’s acquaintanceship with his eccentric and eclectic(in both taste and physical composition) companion was the first time the homunculus had begun to feel, as they’d put it, ‘drained’. 

Bubby had explained to an enraptured Coomer,on more than one occasion, the nature of their state of reanimation, far different from Coomer’s own. They were a man-made construct of flesh, artfully pieced together from pieces of different corpses, stitched into a singular being and imbued with life by the great and terrible force of the heavens, in the form of lightning. 

Coomer said it reminded him of Prometheus, sculpting mankind from clay.

Bubby said it reminded them of a penny dreadful.

They existed in a state between life and death, though not quite undeath, either. Certainly each composite part of them, corpses as they had been, could be considered undead, but Bubby themself was a new creation that came into life for the first time upon the metal slab of their creators laboratory, never having ‘died’ and therefore not being themselves brought back from the dead, but nevertheless composed of reanimated parts. 

They were sustained not by blood coursing through veins, but rather electricity, which was honestly a boon for Coomer. He was still fairly young, by vampire standards, anyway, and his self control could be...spotty at times, and it was nice to have a companion that he could sit beside and feel no desire to tear their throat out and drain them of their life juices. They could subsist without food or drink if they needed to, as well, which was also helpful, as it was often not possible for either of them to venture into civilisation to obtain rations of any kind.

However, there were downsides to Bubby’s condition, as well, which began to make themselves apparent those three months in.

Bubby’s escape from the lab of their creation was as unplanned as it was unorthodox. The whole thing had apparently been pure chaos from beginning to end, and Bubby didn’t seem to enjoy talking about it very much. Certainly an angry mob was involved, at least some pitchforks and torches, and a massive inferno of less than fully explained origin(‘Fire good,’ Bubby had said with a shrug), the last of which providing a convenient distraction for Bubby to make their escape into the nearby woods, but they hadn’t exactly had ample time to plan or provision their flight. They couldn’t take any of the tools or resources their creator had with them when they fled. They had no idea what they would need, nor any idea of what to expect when they were away from that lab for any extended period of time

Three months after their escape, it began to become apparent. 

Coomer noticed long before Bubby said anything, and, in fact, had to more or less force a confession out of them about it. 

Bubby just began to...slow, the way one does when they’ve gone too long without proper sleep. They began to stumble more often, to take longer to think of words, and such. The difference was very slight, only so drastic as someone who had woken up an hour or so before they’d have liked to that morning, and generally only became noticeable when Bubby was themself tired, but sleep never seemed to completely chase away that fatigue and Coomer worried. 

He especially worried when Bubby practically panicked at Coomer’s slight inquiry into the subject, insisting far too forcefully that nothing was wrong and changing the subject. Coomer was eventually able to wrestle(both metaphorically and literally) an answer from them.

Energy of any kind, is finite, and that included the energy that maintained Bubby’s state of ‘half life’. Without supplementing it, it would eventually run out. Bubby’s creator had a huge contraption of wire and steel that Bubby would be attached to via the bolts on their neck. When lightning struck the lightning rod atop the laboratory roof, it would travel down those wires into the bolts and, by extension, Bubby, ‘recharging’ them, as Bubby put it. 

“Why on Earth didn’t you tell me?” Coomer demanded.

“Because I didn’t...Because it’s none of your business!” Bubby snapped. “I don’t go snooping into how you get your ‘fix’! When you disappear into a town for the night, I don’t pry into your sudden improvement in pallor. I don’t ask you about the screams!”

Coomer flinched. It was a low blow and he was immediately inclined to take the bait, but the look in their eyes gave him pause. It was a fearful glint like a trapped animal, lashing out in fear, not anger. 

He huffed out a small, unnecessary breath and crossed his arms.

“What is this really about?” he asked, voice calm, but stern. “Why didn’t you…,” his voice wavered, ever so slightly, “Why didn’t you trust me?” 

The anger in Bubby’s face drained in an instant, falling instead into a look of pain and remorse.

“No, it’s not like that!” they insisted. “I just...I didn’t...I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t...I didn’t want you to…”

“To what?”

Bubby sighed, deflating. They averted their eyes, not meeting Coomer’s gaze. 

“I didn’t want you to leave me behind,” they admitted at last, voice barely above a whisper. “There’s never been anything else like me before. I don’t know exactly how I work or how to keep myself working. I was afraid if you realized that, if you thought I couldn’t take care of myself, you’d...decide I was too much trouble.”

Coomer burst out laughing.

Any meekness to Bubby’s expression vanished in an instant and their bolts sparked with indignation. 

“Why is it every time I bare my soul to you you laugh?!” they spat.

Coomer wiped a tear from his eye. 

“Forgive me, Bubby,” he said. “It just strikes me as so completely preposterous I can’t help but laugh!”

“That I don’t even know how I can exist?” Bubby snarled. “That I don’t have any idea how this...hodge podge of flesh I call a body can even hold itself together? That I could just stop working one day and have no idea why? You find that ‘preposterous’?” they again cast their eyes to the ground, a mixture of shame and rage on their face.

Coomer’s expression softened and he stepped towards Bubby to lay a hand gently on their cheek and guide their face up to meet his gaze.

“That you could think there was anything that would make me want to not be with you,” he said.

Bubby’s eyes went wide and his bolts sparked again, but with a softer sort of ‘hum’ of energy, rather than the earlier harsh zapping. 

“You  _ are  _ one of a kind, Bubby,” he went on. “I’ve never even heard of something like you. I didn’t think something like you could even exist. It’s fascinating!  _ You’re  _ fascinating.”

Bubby’s mouth opened and closed like they wanted to speak, but couldn’t find any words.

“It’s easy, as an immortal, even one so relatively young as myself, to feel as though the world begins to stagnate.” Coomer continued. “That someday one will reach the point at which existence can yield nothing else but that with which one is already too well acquainted. But you...You’re something entirely new. Something unprecedented. There’s so much to learn from you.  _ About  _ you. I want to... understand you.”

Coomer dropped his hand from Bubby’s face to their shoulder, this time being the one to avert his gaze.

“Moreover, I want to...I want to see you experience this world, as new to you as you are to it,” he said. Had he not been long dead, a flush would have probably risen to his cheek. “There’s so much you haven’t seen, haven’t done. I want you to see them, to do them. And moreso, I want to show them to you, give them to you. The way your eyes light up at things I’ve lived in fear someday would hold for me only monotony and makes me feel as though I could never again find them mundane...I want to see that. I want...I want to never stop seeing it.”

He braved a glance back up at Bubby, who was agape with shock. 

“Nothing so trivial as a lack of energy could possibly deter me,” he said, voice resolute. “Even if I have to build a tower of steel and wire myself, there’s nothing that would make me leave you. For as long as...as long as you’ll have me.”

Bubby’s hand clasped onto Coomer’s still resting on their shoulder, holding on like they expected him to disappear if their grip wavered. 

“Forever!” they said, instantly, then seemed to panic at their own forthrightness. “I mean, for as...for as long as you’ll have me.” 

Their bolts were crackling with electricity now, sending off small, glowing motes and arcs of energy. 

Coomer smiled and reached out with his other hand to touch Bubby’s cheek again.

Many years later, when Coomer would become fully educated on the idea of a ‘circuit’ and the ramifications of completing one by placing one’s hands on either side of what was essentially an openly sparking power source, the resulting occurrence would be an interesting and enlightening memory.

As it stood in the moment, the resulting electrocution simply caused him to be rendered briefly unconscious and his hair to not lie flat for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in one sitting, nearly delirious from withdrawal after my doctor once again didn't warn me about possible medicine interactions and long story short my antacids made me stop being able to absorb my thyroid pills and I got real sick. Still am, but at least not deep in withdrawal currently. So if this is completely incoherent, my bad. Also I get very purple with my prose when I get woozy like that so sorry about all the "forthright"s and "moreover"s. 
> 
> I have two more chapters planned (in fact this was supposed to just be like a few paragraphs setting the stage for the real story but morphed into a 3 chapter saga. whoops) but no promises due to aforementioned medical B.S. 
> 
> Posted with permission of the author of the original AU in which this story is set.


	2. Thunderstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A solution is found more quickly than anticipated.

As fortune would have it, the answer to their dilemma found them, not a week later. 

Generally, the two travelled at night, due to Coomer’s inability to go out in sunlight, but the day was overcast, dark clouds blocking out the sun, and the two were eager to make it to the nearest town, both in hopes of finding information and/or supplies to help them solve the problem of Bubby’s need for power, and to be out of the less than ideal landscape they found themselves in. 

The past few days, the area they’d been trekking through had been open hills with few trees or rock formations to find shelter in during the day. The frequent, steep uphills were hard on Bubby’s already waning endurance, and the lack of sufficient shelter made for anxious traveling, never knowing for sure if they’d be able to find a place to hide out for the day before the sun rose. 

Also, it had been,if Coomer was being entirely honest with himself, somewhat...awkward between the two of them since their somewhat soul-bearing moment a few days prior. 

Coomer had awoken after his brief bout of post electrocution unconsciousness in the arms of a mortified Bubby, who was utterly distraught at having inadvertently shocked him. Coomer had a suspicion that they might have imagined they’d actually killed him (not an unfair assumption, in all honesty. It is, after all, quite hard to tell the difference between ‘unconscious’ and ‘deceased’ when the being in question is already technically the latter), but didn’t press them for any kind of confirmation. It was somewhat endearing, really, just how distressed Bubby had been at the idea of him coming to harm and he couldn’t deny it had been more than pleasant to awaken to those bright blue eyes staring down at him with such concern, encircled by cautious, gentle arms.

However, since then, an air of discomfort had seemed to settle onto the pair of them and Bubby had grown skittish and withdrawn. 

Coomer worried that he’d perhaps been too forthright in his feelings. They had but a handful of months ago, after all. But Coomer had never been one to be indirect nor reserved, and Bubby had seemed fervent in their own response, but who could truly know in matters of the heart? Certainly not Coomer, whose own past endeavors into the romantic arts had ended less than spectacularly. 

Coomer traced a nervous finger over the two small, circular scars on his neck, absentmindedly. 

Bubby was leading the way, despite the fact that Coomer was the one who actually knew where they were going. Coomer had noticed that they often liked to lead, even when they were technically following, especially when they seemed to be uncomfortable. Coomer suspected they liked being in control of how much space they put between the two of them. Coomer didn’t mind though. He was happy enough being behind, since he was able to keep an eye on them and catch them if they stumbled and fell. 

The wind picked up, whipping through Coomer’s hair, which was still not lying flat after his brush with electrocution. He looked up to see the sky had darkened even more, and he could even see small flashes of light arcing across the clouds. Thunder rumbled through the sky. 

“Seems as though it’s going to storm,” he said, stating what was already obvious, more in an attempt to fill the silence than anything else. 

There was no reply from his counterpart.

“My kingdom for a lightning rod, eh?” he said, jovial tone feeling forced. 

“Yeah,” was the half-hearted sounding reply. 

Coomer frowned. Clearly Bubby was not in the mood for talking, though it seemed like that, more often than not, was an indication that there was something they should be talking about. 

Though it had been incredibly effective, knowing now of Bubby’s weakened state, Coomer was hesitant to repeat his method of getting Bubby to admit to his power issue in the first place: a, in Coomer’s personal opinion, beautifully executed headlock turned full body tackle to the ground, maintained until the restrained party yielded the desired information.

But, nonetheless, let it never be said that Harold Pontiff Coomer was not a man of action.

Utilizing his superhuman speed, Coomer caught up to Bubby in an instant, catching them by the arm.

Bubby turned on their heel back to face him, eyes wide and bolts sending off a small flurry of gentle sparks.

“Talk to me,” Coomer said. “If I’ve...if I’ve put a foot wrong, I want to know. If I was too hasty, too forward or presumptuous--”

The sparking of Bubby’s bolts turned to a sharp zapping, electricity arcing out in random directions.

“No, no!” they insisted. “Oh God, of course you would think--No it’s nothing you did. I just--I’m--”

“You’re _what?”_

“I’m embarrassed!”

Coomer fought back a snort of laughter, utterly taken aback by the response.

“Embarrassed?” he asked, baffled. 

“I’m _mortified_ , Harold!” Bubby said, pulling their arm out of Coomer’s grip to put their face in their hands, their bolts continuing to spark. “I was embarrassed enough about having to admit I don’t even know how to keep myself running, then I go and shock the daylights out of you! As if you needed any more proof of how inept I am!”

For a moment, Coomer said nothing.

‘ _They used my first name. That’s the first time they’ve done that.’_

He shook himself out of his brief reflection.

“Bubby, you’re not inept!” he insisted. “I’ve told you already, I don’t care that you don’t know much about yourself. We’ll find out together! And you’re making far too big a deal out of a little shock.”

“Little?!” Bubby cried, bolts now sparking furiously. “I knocked you out cold! It’s been days but your hair is still standing on end!” 

“Oh, I’d hardly say it’s on…” 

Coomer paused. He put a hand to his hair to find it was all standing on end, far more so that it had been earlier. In fact, all the hair on his body seemed to be standing straight up, like a cat puffing itself up. Looking back to Bubby, he could see their hair was also on end. 

An odd sort of prickling sensation spread across Coomer’s skin, like when one walks across a rug in a pair of wool socks.

Suddenly the sparking of Bubby’s bolts changed to a sharp, loud ‘zapping’, arcs brighter and faster, branching out farther from their neck.

Bubby took a step back, taken aback by the change. Then their nose scrunched as though something had tickled their face. 

“What the...I feel like I’m going to-to-Ah- _ACHOO_!”

The next, nearly simultaneous events happened so fast that, had Coomer not possessed the enhanced senses and reflexes of a vampire, he would not have even been able to observe, nevermind process.

As Bubby sneezed, a bolt of electricity shot upwards out of him and towards the sky then, even faster than that bolt had gone skyward, came an answering bolt of a power ten thousand fold, crashing into them with a cacophonous **_‘KRACKK’._ **

In the instant before it struck, Coomer instinctively released his physical form into a cloud of mist. The air turned scalding hot for a split second, riling up the wind and blasting his vaporous form away and disorienting him. After a moment of recollecting himself, Coomer returned to his corporeal form a good ten feet from the lightning’s impact.

“BUBBY!” he screamed, catching sight of the prone and steaming form at the epicenter of the strike, eyes closed and unmoving.

He was to his companion’s side in an instant, kneeling over them, tears of fear welling in his eyes. 

“Bubby?” he breathed.

Suddenly, stunning and nearly glowing blue eyes snapped open and Bubby sucked in a gasping breath. They grinned from ear to ear and shot to their feet nearly too fast for Coomer to keep up with, cackling madly and bolts shooting off sparks in all directions.

“You mad bastard!” they cried staring down at their hands, “You thought of everything didn’t you?”

They turned to the still reeling Coomer.

“I don’t need a lightning rod!” they said, beaming. “I AM one!”

The pieces fell into place and a grin to rival Bubby’s split Coomer’s face as well.

“You mean…? Then you’re…?” 

“Fully charged, baby! Hahaha!” 

Suddenly Coomer found himself lifted off the ground in a spinning hug as Bubby swung him around with an energy Coomer hadn’t thought them capable of possessing, but was more than delighted to discover. He joined in Bubby’s rapturous laughter. 

He gazed into Bubby’s eyes, still aglow with their newly acquired energy and Bubby all at once seemed overcome with emotion. They leaned in towards his face and their lips might have brushed, though neither could recall afterwards, due to the reaction immediately following any direct contact, however brief, of their flesh.

It is a myth that electrocution propels one backwards. Rather, when electricity flows through them, one’s muscles convulse and that can push one sharply away from the source of the shock.

Decidedly so when one is a superhumanly strong member of the undead and said source of shock has, at best, a tenuous connection with their forearms, which, along with Coomer, ended up a good fifteen feet from their original location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow not being wacked out of my mind in withdrawal actually made this take longer to write, though that could just be because 2nd chapters are always harder. 
> 
> Ended up doing a lot of research on lighting, conductivity, grounding, and electricity in general for this chapter because I couldn't think of a way around the fact that nothing except for "be very tall" can actually 'attract' lightning(and because I'm a biiiiiig neeeerd). Lightning rods don't even actually attract lightning. They're just there to divert it away from electronics if the building happens to be struck. Even being really tall has next to no effect since the distance from the ground that stormclouds are is so immense that, comparatively, even the tallest building is, for all intents and purposes, nearly the same distance away as the ground itself.  
> Ended up learning that lightning actually starts from the ground up. The static charge in the clouds causes the inherent electrical charge of the earth below it to send up a 'streamer' when is then instantly met by a bolt from the sky, causing the full strike (I'm paraphrasing and not well but you get the gist). So I came up with the sort of psuedo science idea that bubby is designed to send up an electrical streamer of their own when their close enough to the strike zone of a lightning bolt. 
> 
> Now would even the strongest electrical generator on earth be able to create a charge powerful enough to in any way counteract the enormous electrical charge of the planet?  
> Not remotely.  
> Am I ignoring that fact for the sake of having Bubby functionally be slightly allergic to lightning storms and attract lightning strikes with his sneezes?  
> Absolutely. 
> 
> Also: remember kids, if you're out in a lightning storm and you feel all your hair stand on end: MOVE!


End file.
